Islands in the Stream
by finnth3human
Summary: I never expected that Sodapop Curtis, a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, would be the one to fill my world with the screaming colour it desperately needed. But I did expect the people who didn't understand, who wanted to make everything black and white again.
1. Cool Kids

**Well, I haven't been on fanfiction in a long time, but I recently reread and re-watched the Outsiders and then I got the idea for this story.**

 **I'm honestly a bit anxious about posting this because I know very little about 1960's America, but I'm trying my best to make sure everything fits with the time this is set. It'll probably get better as I get used to it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders and the story title comes from the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers song of the same name.**

 **Anyway, happy reading!**

* * *

 _You do something to me that I can't explain_

 _Hold me closer and I feel no pain_

 _Every beat of my heart_

 _We got something going on_

 _\- Islands in the Stream; Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers_

* * *

The new house loomed over me as I stared up at it, admittedly a little uncomfortable with the size of it. It was huge, terribly huge; much bigger than the one we'd lived in in Boston. It was almost menacing – the windows were like glaring eyes, the large door a mouth that would eat me whole. It seemed too big for this little town.

It's funny looking back; I never thought this would also apply to me.

Part of me didn't even want to step inside the house, because I knew that would be the moment everything changed. Although I was aware that we needed a fresh start, I hated that we had to move states in order to achieve that. My parents desired a complete change of scenery, thus leaving the city in exchange for this one-horse town. I continued to stare up at the house as my mom stepped up beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "It'll get easier," she told me. I glanced at her, taking into account the haunted look that still lingered in her eyes, though their blueness was a lot brighter now. I offered a small smile, before turning to assist my dad upon hearing him open the trailer that held our possessions.

Seeing our belongings boxed up caused a knot to form somewhere in my chest, and I couldn't help wondering when exactly things would start to get easier.

I was adventurous at heart, but after arriving in Tulsa I ventured no further than my back yard. That was the only part of the house I truly liked, due to the fact that our old yard in Boston didn't live up to the standard of the house. For the first couple of weeks I slowly unpacked, I read, and I sulked. If we had made this move a couple of years ago, I would've left my parents to do all the unpacking while I explored every inch of this new town. I probably would have even made a friend that very same day. But a lot had changed in the past few months.

I wasn't miserable, not at all. I was just a little homesick. I was so accustomed to the sounds of city life that the tranquillity of my neighbourhood was a little unsettling. My parents adjusted quite quickly considering, and I could tell they were hoping I'd settle soon as well. They often mentioned that I should go out and see the town, maybe meet someone, but every time they did I reminded them school was starting soon and that would be the place I'd make any friends. It wasn't very likely that I would bump into someone interesting just by wandering around town.

It was one day in the week before school started when one of our neighbours finally decided to introduce themselves. I opened the door to a women with sandy hair and dark eyes, the teenager beside her looked almost exactly the same but for the eyes.

"Hey, there!" The woman greeted cheerfully. I reminded myself that the accent was something I'd have to get used to. "I'm Mary Wilson, this here's my daughter Nancy." Nancy gave me a small wave and I smiled weakly in response. My mom appeared at my side just as Mary was saying, "We live just down the street, we wanted to make sure y'all were settled in before we welcomed you to the neighbourhood."

My mom glanced between Nancy and me. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Now I didn't have to go out and find a friend – a friend had just turned up at my front door. Little did I know that Nancy Wilson would end up being my best friend.

* * *

The next time I saw Nancy was the following Monday when she picked me up in a bright red Ford Mustang. My mom had insisted that I let her drive me to school, despite the fact I'd only met her once. I think she was desperate for me to make friends. At least Nancy's car was cool.

The entire morning I obsessed over what to wear, how to have my hair. I eventually decided on the blue dress with the belt at the waist, the one my dad said made my blue eyes stand out. I figured it was a good choice when Nancy nodded appreciatively upon seeing me walk towards her car.

Nancy was the smiliest girl I'd ever met; she sang along to the radio while I checked over my schedule. It made the first few minutes of the car ride less awkward, anyway. Soon, she reached out to turn the volume down slightly, tilting the rear-view mirror to an angle that allowed her to see my face.

"So, my mom tells me you're from Boston," she said conversationally. "I bet Tulsa's a big change from that."

I snorted. "You got that right."

Nancy grinned. "That's so cool, I've never even left this place in my whole life," she told me, brushing the hair from her face. I studied her properly for a moment then. Her yellow dress made her grey eyes look silver, her sandy hair was adorned with a white ribbon. At first glance, she looked like the kind of girl who was a lot meaner than she actually was. But, as I later learned, I didn't really let the way people looked alter my impressions of them, even if I should have.

Nancy continued speaking, unaware of me watching her, "That'll impress my friends, too. I'll introduce you, if you want? You'll like 'em."

"Oh, yeah, okay," I said, surprised. Hell, I'd only just met _her_ and she already wanted me to meet her friends. I really didn't want to impose, but I could already hear my parents' voices echoing in my head: _Made any friends yet, Roxanne?_ I shuddered, I hated the idea of them constantly pestering me about this. So, I decided sitting with Nancy and her friends at lunch wouldn't be too bad.

I definitely fit right in with the freshman at Will Rogers High School; I was just as confused and bewildered as they were. After the warning bell rang, Nancy gave me quick directions to my English Literature class, as she had to get to chemistry, though she promised she'd see me in history – the period before lunch. I wondered briefly if she was only looking out for me because her mom told her to, after all, we were from the same neighbourhood. Not to mention we were of the same social status, I didn't learn until sometime after our first meeting how important this actually was in Tulsa.

Despite the directions Nancy gave me, I managed to get myself lost, causing me to turn up to class when every seat but mine was taken. I faltered at the doorway when numerous pairs of eyes landed on my intruding figure, though I hurriedly gathered myself and explained to the teacher that I was new. Thankfully, Mr. Warren was understanding and directed me to my seat with a smile, even though it was obvious which was mine.

I sat beside a boy who I didn't manage to get a good look at, mainly because he wouldn't give me the chance. Every time I even glanced anywhere remotely in his direction, he'd turn his head away and sink a little lower in his seat. When he wasn't doing this, he would fidget relentlessly. Surely I should have been the one acting this nervous, I was the New Kid, after all.

Mr. Warren's first assignment was for us to write a short description about ourselves, something interesting, and share it with the person sitting next to us. "This is the person who'll be your neighbour for the rest of the year," he explained. "Get to know each other."

I stared at the piece of paper in front of me for a good ten minutes, trying to decide what to write. Something interesting? Perhaps the most interesting thing about me was the fact I was from Boston. I mean, it had impressed Nancy. Eventually, I had comprised a small paragraph consisting of my hobbies and things I liked, nothing too fancy, I thought.

The boy sat next to me didn't have to read a paragraph for him to seem interesting to me; I was instantly drawn in by his name.

I read it over his shoulder and in my surprise accidentally muttered it out loud: "Ponyboy Curtis."

His eyes snapped to me so fast I almost fell out of my seat in shock at the sudden eye contact, after he'd been so keen to avoid it. He was young, younger than anybody else in the room. He dressed differently, too, drastically different to the people I saw in my neighbourhood. Jeans, plain black shirt, and hair slicked with grease. When Nancy and I had arrived at school, I had noticed a few guys hanging around outside dressed a similar way, a lot of them also wore leather jackets.

There was definitely a clash of social class in this town, but it didn't begin to affect me personally until I had been in Tulsa for a while.

Something in this boy's expression dared me to ridicule him, make fun of him the way people had countless times before. But the softness in his green eyes had me smiling and saying, "That's a great name."

For a moment he looked taken aback, confused even, then finally I noticed the flicker of relief that crossed his face. He could have been relieved that I hadn't made a comment like he expected, or that he didn't have to call me out on it. I didn't know. I also didn't know how pivotal this meeting between Ponyboy Curtis and I would be for my life, or how different things could have been if I had reacted differently to hearing his name for the first time.

"I'm Roxanne Kennedy," I introduced myself, before picking up the piece of paper in front of me. "Guess I should tell you some interesting facts besides my name, though."

I told him all the boring stuff first, like the fact I had moved from Boston (to which he replied "That's why you got that funny accent." This was the first thing he ever said to me and I never forgot how much it made me laugh). Then I went on to speak of my love of music; the fact I played three instruments and I loved the Beatles, but probably loved Bob Dylan and Elvis Presley more. One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was probably my favourite book, and I wished it was more acceptable for girls to wear pants.

Ponyboy had a lot more going for him than just his name. He was fourteen, but so smart he had been put up a grade. He liked to read and draw pictures and was on the track team. And he loved his older brother more than anyone else in the world.

I had to say, I was charmed by the kid that very first time I met him. Something about him was so pure. Oh, and he liked Elvis, too.

Nancy stuck to her word and saved me a seat beside her in history, greeting me with her usual wide grin. Entering the room, I immediately noticed the two guys sat at the back dressed similarly to Ponyboy, though these two looked a little more menacing. Nancy caught onto what I was looking at and leant towards me once I'd sat next to her. "Don't worry about 'em," she said. "They should leave you alone, you have the upper hand."

It wouldn't be until the following day that I really understood what she meant. But, for now, I nodded at Nancy's statement. I figured they were the kind of guys to disrupt class and never get anywhere. I was sort of right, but there was much more to it than that. Back then, I had a really naïve view of the divide in Tulsa, now I find it embarrassing to think I believed all the problems were down to the clothes we wear.

These two guys sat directly behind Nancy and I, and they would not stop talking for the life of them. Nancy seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to my tolerance levels. She allowed me to shoot the guys a couple of glares, but the one time I opened my mouth to snap at them she sent me a warning look. I only complied because she knew this place better than I did, she knew how things worked.

After class was dismissed for lunch, one of the guys shoved past me so roughly in the hall that I swore loudly after him. "What's wrong with those guys?" I asked Nancy as we walked together.

"They're just hoods, ignore 'em," she replied dismissively. "Come on, I can't wait to introduce you to the girls."

Nancy and I queued for our food before she led me to a table in the centre of the cafeteria. This was when I was hit with another realisation about the social hierarchy of this town; there wasn't a leather jacket or greased hair in sight.

At the table sat four other girls, all wearing dresses or knee-length skirts and blouses. Nancy sat down first and I followed her lead, smiling somewhat awkwardly at these unfamiliar girls.

"Hey, y'all, this is Roxanne," Nancy announced. "She's from Boston." She had been right – this impressed them.

First there was Cynthia King, with chocolate hair and chocolate eyes; she was on the gymnastics team and was madly in love with John Lennon. Next there was Peggy Richardson, with platinum blonde hair and hazel eyes that pierced into me when she first looked at me; Peggy was known as the most aggressive of the group, but she was also really good at math.

And then there was Sherry Valance, known to her friends as Cherry, and Marcia James. Cherry had long red hair, hence the nickname, and tended to look at you like she was trying to figure you out. Marcia had dark, short hair and was almost as smiley as Nancy. Almost, but not quite.

"Boston?" Cynthia repeated, setting down her apple. "No way, you got the accent and everythin'?"

"I should do, I lived there my whole life," I answered.

"Oh, boy," Peggy spoke up. "You're gonna stand out around here, that's for sure." It took me a few days to warm up to Peggy, but I always thought about her saying this.

"Not too much, I hope," I said with a slightly nervous laugh.

Then I was victim to the first of many calculating looks Cherry would give me, and which I would soon get used to. After studying me for a few moments, she finally said, "I think you'll do just fine." Then she smiled, and just like that, I liked her.

These girls accepted me rather quickly despite my status as the New Girl, they even invited me to sit with them at lunch the following day. And that wasn't even the best part.

"Say, Roxanne," Marcia said after a few minutes of idle conversation, sounding as though she was about to say something really important. "There's this carnival tonight, and we're all goin'. Wanna come? It'll be fun."

I grinned so wide at this. Not only had I already been invited somewhere with these girls I'd just met, but it was to a carnival of all places. "Yeah," I answered, aiming my grin in her direction. "I'd like that."

* * *

 **I have a slight plan for this story and I'm pretty excited for it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	2. Watch the Lights Go Wild

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed! You motivate me to keep writing.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

In hindsight, there wasn't a cheesier way in which Sodapop Curtis and I could have met.

That evening, after getting permission from my parents to go to the carnival (mentioning that I had been invited by some girls I met at school certainly helped persuade them, my mom looked downright cheerful), I changed into my favourite red dress for the occasion and eagerly awaited the moment Cherry would honk her car horn outside my house.

When this moment finally arrived, I practically skipped down the stairs, pausing at the bottom when my dad said my name firmly. I turned to face him slowly, smiling sweetly. "Yes, daddy?" I only called him this when I was trying not to get into trouble, or if I wanted something. He was far too familiar with this.

He narrowed his eyes, studying me carefully for a moment before speaking, "Make sure you're back by ten, and be careful."

"When have you ever known me to be otherwise?" I answered, stepping onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Then I spun on my heel and hurried to the door, throwing a "bye!" over my shoulder.

I jumped down the steps leading to my front door, almost stumbling at the bottom once I saw Cherry's car; a red Stingray convertible. Okay, I _had_ to get myself a cool car. I was a fan of the Shelby Cobra, personally. Not that my dad would ever let me anywhere near one. Anyway, Cherry's car may have looked nice, but it was definitely a tight fit for six teenage girls. Plus, I was the last one to be picked up as I lived furthest away from Cherry, Nancy had been picked up just before me. I still wonder how we made it to that carnival alive.

The first time I ever went to a carnival I was six years old and I never thought I would see something so beautiful again in my life. That was, of course, before I met Sodapop Curtis, and believe me when I say he was a close second. At six years old I had been captivated by the flashing lights, the invasion of the smells of food and machinery and the deafening sounds of fun. The Ferris wheel had by far been my favourite ride; it made me feel as though I was flying and I wanted to stay at the top forever, looking out over the city, feeling as though I could see the whole world. I had cried for days after the carnival had left.

This carnival was the first one I had been to since then, but as I climbed out of Cherry's car I was suddenly six years old again. It wasn't as big as the one in Boston had been, yet, somehow, it was even more spectacular. Everything else was the same: the flashing lights, the smells and sounds. Except now I noticed new things, too: the loud music that was playing everywhere, different songs at different parts of the carnival, the scent of food stands that made my mouth water, and the games surrounded by children desperate to win giant stuffed animals. In fact, I spotted many couples also approaching these games, the boy handing the pretty, smiling girl the stuffed animal he had won for her.

And right in the middle of it all was a Ferris wheel, still as big and bright as I remembered.

I didn't want to appear too overexcited in front of the girls, who were very cool as we walked through the entrance, but my child-like hyperactivity was getting the better of me. Realising I was walking ahead of them quite a bit, I stopped in my tracks to wait for them to catch up, grinning sheepishly.

"Look at you!" Nancy cried, giggling. "You're like a kid at Christmas."

"You ever been to a carnival before?" Cynthia asked curiously.

"Not since I was six," I replied without looking at her. I couldn't look at anyone, I was so enthralled in my surroundings.

"What shall we do first?" Marcia asked the group. "Food?"

"No food before rides," Peggy answered forcefully. "We don't want Nancy vomiting again."

I glanced at Nancy, seeing the blush she was trying, and failing, to hide. "That was one time!" She argued. I realised then that this must have been something these girls did a lot, and I felt fairly honoured to have been invited along.

"Rides first," Cherry spoke up. "Then food."

"Then games!" Nancy yelled, linking her arm with mine.

It didn't take long for me to take charge. Everybody humoured me because my excitement was so apparent. Nobody could decide which ride to go on first, so I just began marching towards the ghost train, pretty soon the others simply followed. While we waited in the queue, there was a buzz of anxious exhilaration; none of us really expected the ride to be scary, but there was something about it that put us on edge. Nancy and I were the first to go in, coming out the other end giggling and clinging onto each other.

I continued to lead us around the rides after this, from the Rotor (which I didn't really enjoy), to the Scrambler (which I did). Peggy insisted we went on the Flying Coaster – I was quickly learning that when Peggy Richardson insisted on something, you did it. As it wasn't a considerably large carnival, we managed to get on every single ride. When we passed by the bumper cars on the way to the Ferris wheel, there was a strange gathering of girls that hadn't been there when we'd had a go on them. It confused me so greatly that I stopped walking. Nancy was the first to notice I wasn't with the group, stopping a little ahead of me and turning back.

"What's going on?" I asked, finally getting my feet moving and catching up with them.

"Sodapop must be workin' the bumper cars again," Cynthia said with a sigh.

I raised my eyebrows. "Sodapop?" I echoed. "Don't hear that one every day." How I didn't guess that he and Ponyboy were related then, I don't know. They _both_ had funky names, after all. "But why are there so many girls around him?" I then asked.

"No reason, really," Cherry replied. "Just that he's probably the most gorgeous guy any of them have ever seen."

And then, somehow, I lost all interest. With a shrug I continued walking, wanting nothing more than to get on the Ferris wheel. I ended up sitting with Cherry on this, though we didn't speak much until we stopped at the top. I stared out at the sun setting over the Tulsa skyline and unintentionally heaved a deep sigh, the Boston skyline appearing in my mind and weighing heavily on my heart.

Cherry caught this, sending me her calculating look for the second time since I'd met her. "You havin' fun?" She asked, now following my gaze out towards the horizon.

"Yeah," I answered honestly after a short silence. "I love carnivals, and I feel like I'm getting to know you girls better." I tore my eyes from the sky to smile at Cherry. "Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem," she said, grinning in response. "I like you, Rox. I'd like us to be friends." I had never felt so accepted so soon after meeting someone, especially not enough to receive a nickname. This was the first of two nicknames I would receive from two different people.

"Do you miss Boston?" Cherry then asked, taking advantage of the fact it was just the two of us.

"Yes," I admitted immediately. "But there's nothing I can do about it now. Just gotta get used to this place."

After departing the Ferris wheel, we were all starving. We headed to the food stands discussing the different things we all wanted, even this made my stomach growl. I decided to get a hot dog with onions, mustard and ketchup, but I ate this so fast that I ended up getting cotton candy as well.

The six of us ate our food while we wandered around the game stands, trying to see anything we found interesting. Cynthia proved to be a deft hand at the target shooting game, quickly moving on when she upset a couple of nearby kids who couldn't get the hang of it. Marcia and Cherry enjoyed the balloon and dart game, while Peggy was, unsurprisingly, a natural at the high striker. Nancy's favourite was the Ping-Pong and fishbowl game, the only one that I managed to win at. I ended up giving my goldfish to a sad-looking little girl.

* * *

A while later we were all completely exhausted and ready to go home. We strolled towards the exit carrying our various prizes, except me, but I had bought a candy apple to make up for it. "I don't even want this thing," Peggy told us distastefully, glaring down at the porcelain sailor in her hand. "I just like to win."

"Give it to your little brother," Marcia suggested, just about dodging a hit from the giant stuffed dog that Cynthia was struggling to carry.

"I'm gonna name this little guy Paul," Nancy said, pointing to the goldfish she had won and not given away.

"McCartney?" I asked and she smiled knowingly.

The carnival was as loud as ever, the whooping and enthusiastic yells that came from behind us completely blended in with the screams from rides. I didn't even realise how close the people doing the yelling were to us, until a sudden weight slammed into my back and the ground slipped from beneath my feet. I tumbled, landing on my side with a hard thud, losing my candy apple along the way. I just about managed to keep my dress from riding up.

"Ah, sorry 'bout that!" A male voice said, sounding out of breath with excitement and not particularly concerned. Irritated and embarrassed, I sat up, lifting my head to glare at whatever ditz had knocked me over, faltering ever so slightly when my eyes first landed on him.

He was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Nice dark brown eyes that seemed to dance as he looked down at me, combed back dark gold hair, and a goofy grin that irritated me that little bit more. Finally I saw that he was holding a hand out to me expectantly. I quickly took it, scowling slightly as I allowed him to help me to my feet. "Looks like you just fell for me," he joked as I brushed off my dress. I paused, quirking an eyebrow. He didn't seem to notice, continuing to speak, "Anyway, I'm real sorry, miss. Guess I got a little too jazzed."

He seemed nice enough, and at least he helped me up and apologised. "Don't worry about it," I said, now smiling as well. "I get the same at carnivals."

His grin widened and this time, I had to admit, I went a little weak at the knees. He nodded, glancing over his shoulder at his friends. It was funny, I hadn't even realised they were there, nor that my new friends were watching the two of us with great interest. "Alright, I'm gonna beat it, but I owe you a candy apple," he told me, already walking away. I was surprised he even saw that I'd had one. I watched as he and his friends walked away, hitting each other good-naturedly before breaking into a run. It was then I saw their clothes.

"That's Sodapop," Nancy informed me, stepping up beside me.

"Guess you see why all those girls were round him now, huh?" Cynthia asked.

I nodded mutely, smoothing my hair. I definitely saw the appeal. "She sure does, she's blushing," Cherry pointed out, earning giggles from the others.

"I am _not_ ," I argued, though couldn't help laughing myself.

"Okay, but I can't believe he said that," Peggy began, before putting on a deep voice as she imitated him, " _Looks like you just fell for me_."

"So he's good-looking," I said as we piled into Cherry's car again a few minutes later. "So what?"

"Shut up, Rox, you are _so_ in love," Cherry shot back with another giggle.

Although they were joking about it, if they had their way I wouldn't have anything to do with Sodapop Curtis ever again. Of course I thought he was handsome, but I just knew a boy that good-looking could only cause trouble.

And, boy, was I right.

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 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter because I love funfairs myself. Anyway, apologies if there are any typos and I will try to update ASAP. In the meantime, reviews would be much appreciated :-)**


	3. Feet Don't Fail Me Now

**Once again thanks to people who have reviewed/favourited/followed. Especially ImaginedElegance, your reviews make me feel all fuzzy inside :-)**

 **Enjoy!**

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I hated that I blushed all the way home from the carnival. It was so stupid; it was a just a boy, a boy who clearly had a lot of pretty girls who thought he was beautiful. Perhaps he made his way through a lot of these pretty girls, perhaps he didn't. But I was sure he didn't give me a second thought. The others stopped teasing me about it after a while, growing bored with the subject. Yet I managed to remain distracted until Cherry dropped me off outside my house.

* * *

The next day was when I got my actual, first real taste of the greaser/soc divide, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I know we were jokin' about it last night, but you'd be smart to stay away from boys like that," Peggy told me at lunch, as we sat at the same table we'd been at a day earlier. "They're dangerous."

"They didn't seem too dangerous," I replied, genuinely puzzled. I mean, I _had_ only glanced at all of them except Sodapop, who had seemed nice enough, but to me it just looked like they were having fun at a carnival like we had been.

"They're _greasers_ ," Peggy enlightened me and I raised my eyebrows at the emphasis on the word. "We don't socialise with them."

"Because they're dangerous?" I asked slowly. She nodded, seeming glad that I was catching on.

I suddenly thought of Ponyboy, the way he sank into his seat when I sat beside him, how he avoided eye contact until he thought I was about to make fun of his name. Was that all because 'we weren't supposed to socialise'? Besides, it was hard to imagine him being anything that even resembled dangerous. He told me he liked to read and draw, and, up to now, I liked him.

"So, if they're 'greasers'," I began, using my fingers to air-quote. "What are you?"

I didn't fail to see the glance Nancy and Cynthia sent each other. Peggy raised an eyebrow at my question, but it was Cherry who answered, "They call us socs. We're the rich kids, the ones who have it made."

* * *

I wasn't comfortable putting myself in any kind of category, but I was far too aware that if I had to be in any, it would be the socs. I had the stereotypical nice clothes, the nice house and the wealthy parents with the nice car. Honestly, it made my stomach churn. I couldn't help the family I was born into, and neither could the greasers. How could this be held against anyone? How could it define them?

Although I was angry, I knew that this was just the way things were. I told myself that I didn't have to like it, I just had to accept it. The only problem was that this turned out to be a lot harder than I thought. At first it was quite easy, I simply tried to ignore it. I wanted to be friends with Nancy and the others, I wanted them to accept me. Things got harder later on.

* * *

I couldn't concentrate on my homework. Tapping my pencil against the calculus questions before me, I simply stared at the wall. Even Bob Dylan's voice coming from my record player washed right over me. My dad had to knock on my door three times before it got my attention. "Come in," I called, setting down my pencil and sitting up.

"Hi, honey," my dad greeted, stepping into my room. "Are you alright? I've barely seen you since last night. You didn't even tell me about the carnival."

"It was great, I had fun," I answered absentmindedly.

My dad frowned. "You don't sound like you had much fun."

"Sorry, dad," I replied, sighing and running a hand down my face. "I'm just tired."

"Well, why don't you take a break from homework and go play? I haven't heard you do so since we got here."

My dad had been my hero for the entire sixteen years I had been alive. He was a lawyer and I always admired how hard he worked, even more so now. He was the one who introduced me to music, both the kind I listened to and the kind I played myself. I had started learning to play the piano at five years old, my dad had been my teacher. He often said that after a few years _I_ was the one teaching _him_.

Playing the piano with my dad was something we always bonded over, but the first time I felt a truly special connection with him was when he and I listened to Elvis's _Love Me Tender_ together. This was the very first Elvis song I heard, the song that made me fall in love with him and with music in general. I remember thinking that there was no way I would hear something so soothing ever again, something that sent shivers down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The song still had that effect on me today. In fact, I still owned the very record my dad had played.

I became bored with the piano after realising I was pretty good at it, thus turning my attention to other instruments. I wanted to play the guitar so I could be like Elvis, and a few years after this my mom suggested that I take up the violin. The violin and I didn't have as good of a relationship as I did with the piano and guitar, but I enjoyed playing it nonetheless. Plus, it made my mom happy.

I grinned up at my dad, already feeling a little better. "Yeah, I'll do that," I said, getting up from my bed, abandoning my homework for the time being.

My 'music room' – so to speak – was situated downstairs next to the kitchen. My mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner when I passed it. I altered my course, turning back so I could stand at the door to watch her for a moment. Yes, I had a special connection with my dad over music, but my mom was my first ever best friend. I loved that she had given me her wonderful blue eyes. I loved her cooking and I loved the way she hummed as she did it. There had been a period in my life where this humming had been absent, although now I noticed that it was slowly starting to make a comeback.

She jumped slightly when she finally became aware that I was standing at the doorway. I smiled, stepping inside. "Hey, mom," I greeted. "I'm gonna go play the piano, got any requests?"

She smiled sweetly. That was another thing I loved about her; her smile, it never failed to make me feel better. It was like magic. "You know I love anything you play, Roxy," she said. I knew she was in a good mood if she called me _Roxy_.

Playing the piano always relaxed me. I physically felt my muscles lose their tension, my mind clearing. I couldn't think of anything specific to play, so I just allowed my fingers to dance across the keys in any melodic direction my mind led them. I snapped out of my trance when I heard the shrill sound of the phone ringing, followed by my mom entering the music room.

"It's for you, Roxanne. It's Nancy," she informed me and I followed her back into the kitchen.

I picked up the phone that was resting on the counter, off the hook. "Hello?"

"Are you as bored as I am?" Nancy's voice replied instantly.

"How did you know?" I asked, grinning, wrapping the phone wire around a finger.

"Must be this damn calculus homework," Nancy said, sighing. My grin widened, she didn't seem like the type to curse.

"Wanna come over? We can watch a movie and work on it together."

Twenty minutes later, Nancy and I were spread out on my bed along with our homework, _West Side Story_ playing on the TV in the corner of my room. "What did you get for number five?" Nancy asked me. I barely heard her, my focus entirely on the movie as I played with the ends of my blonde hair. She snapped her fingers in front of my face, gaining my attention.

"What?" I said distractedly, turning to face her.

She eyed me carefully for a moment, her face screwed up. "Your head's in the clouds today," she eventually said.

I shrugged. "I just like this movie," I answered evasively, shoving my homework towards her. "There's what I got for number five."

Nancy was quiet for a few minutes. I could practically hear the gears grinding in her head. "Rox?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like it here?"

I couldn't answer right away. I simply stared at the TV as I thought. Sure, I missed Boston, but there wasn't anything particularly vile about Tulsa so far. Yes, the revelation of a social hierarchy bugged me, but ignoring that, things were going pretty well. I had some new friends, sort of; people I could sit with at lunch and who had even invited me to a carnival. It already felt as though I had known them for longer than two days, Nancy in particular.

Finally I turned to her with a smile. "Yeah, I think I'm beginning to."

This was the moment I began to understand that I wasn't going back to Boston, no matter how much I missed it. So I just had to get used to things here. And yet, I even managed to mess that up.

* * *

 **This chapter was more of a filler which is why it's a bit shorter than the first two, but exciting things are on the way ;-)**


	4. Different People

**I'm so glad people are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it,** **I have the next few chapters all planned out so I should update pretty regularly.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

After a couple of weeks I finally managed to settle, falling into more of a routine. I grew even closer to the girls, so much so that my social status changed quite drastically. It sounded vain to say it, but I had gotten pretty high on the social pyramid. And, in turn, I had fallen into the soc category. It had taken me a while to become accustomed to this, and I was still getting used to it. Admittedly, I kind of liked it. Despite my previous feelings concerning the social hierarchy of Tulsa, I was just glad I was accepted and liked. Sure, I'd had friends in Boston, but I hadn't exactly been Miss. Popular.

Although I had this new social status, I still continued to speak to Ponyboy in English. Peggy had told me we 'didn't socialise with greasers', but screw The Rules, right? I liked talking to Ponyboy, even though he became more nervous the higher up the social ladder I climbed. Unfazed, I continued to be friendly and these days he seemed more at ease around me.

We were currently studying _The Great Gatsby_ , one of my favourite books. Mr. Warren had us doing character analysis and discussing our thoughts with the person sitting next to us.

"All he cares 'bout is money," Ponyboy said firmly. We had started our discussion with the titular character of the book.

"Well, he cares about Daisy, too," I countered. Typical girl response, I know.

"He cares that she's rich," Ponyboy argued. "He only wants money so she'll like him."

"Well, yeah, because he thinks he's not good enough for her without it. He lies about himself because he thinks she won't like who he really is."

"Why would he wanna be with someone who don't like him the way he is?"

"He fell in love with her luxury. He assumed it's what she'd like in return."

Ponyboy sat back, quiet for a few minutes. "I think he's a moron," he blurted, prompting me to burst out laughing.

"Yeah, me too."

Ponyboy left the room a few paces ahead of me when the bell rang. We may have gotten along in class, but we both knew it would be highly strange to be seen walking together in the hall. However, this turned out not to be the problem.

He stopped at his locker just ahead of me and I swiftly caught sight of the three socs heading in his direction. Many socs I had met (thanks to Nancy and Cynthia introducing me to near enough everyone in the entire school) had been friendly enough, to me anyway. I knew how cruel they could be to greasers, and I knew how cruel greasers could be to them in return. But this was Ponyboy. Sweet, young, pure Ponyboy. I didn't doubt that he could defend himself, I had seen it in his face myself. Nevertheless this was three against one. They were all a lot bigger than him. I couldn't stand to see the way they were picking on him, I couldn't bring myself to walk by as if I hadn't even seen anything.

"Come on, guys," I said, standing beside Ponyboy determinedly. "Cut it out, huh?"

The three guys laughed, one of them eyeing me up and down. He would have been quite good-looking had he not looked so mean in that moment. "Can you believe this chick?" He asked his friends, glancing at them.

"Listen, doll-face," one of the others began. I instantly bristled at this name. "This ain't none of your business."

I stood my ground, giving them the most threatening glare I could muster. "He's just a kid," I spat. "You compensating for something?"

By now a small crowd had gathered, murmuring amongst themselves. The first guy that had spoken took a step forward, looking even meaner now. "Look, honey—"

"Will you stop talking down to me like I'm a damn incompetent six year old?"

He looked bewildered for a second, quickly covering it up with a chuckle. "It's a good thing you're cute," he said. "And you got good friends." I glanced over my shoulder as he and his friends left, seeing Cynthia and Nancy in the crowd.

"You didn't have to do that," Ponyboy said quietly. The crowd began to disperse, losing interested.

"Sure, I didn't," I answered, shooting him a sweet smile. "Sorry if I embarrassed you, by the way."

I set off towards my next class, Cynthia and Nancy appearing on each side of me moments later. "What the hell, Rox?" Cynthia questioned, appalled. Now, she was someone I did expect to curse every now and then. Peggy, on the other hand, was a regular potty-mouth.

"What?" I replied nonchalantly.

"Why'd you do that?" Cynthia asked.

"Look, I just like the kid, alright?" I told her. "I didn't like the way they were treating him."

"Well, _I_ think it was boss," Nancy chirped.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "Whatever. See y'all at lunch."

If it hadn't been for me defending Ponyboy, I never would have met Two-Bit Mathews.

I had been zoning out in history class for at least fifteen minutes, when I heard a _psst!_ coming from behind me. I blinked back to reality, glancing around in confusion. It came again a moment later, followed by, "Hey, blondie."

I spun around with an eyebrow raised questioningly. I had never looked at the guy who sat behind me properly before, but looking at him now I saw that he had these sideburns that really needed shaving. He contemplated me for a minute, as if he couldn't quite figure me out. "You're that Roxanne chick, right?" He asked at last.

"That would be me," I answered slowly, wondering where this was going.

"You hang 'round with Peggy Richardson an' them?"

"Is this going somewhere?"

He sat back, narrowing his eyes. "Just tryna work out why a gal like you would do what you just did." I blinked again, silently willing him to elaborate. "See, Pony's a buddy of mine. He's a greaser, you dig? I just don't see why a soc would stand up to other socs for a greaser."

"Because," I began, sending him the same contemplative look he was giving me. "He's sort of my buddy, too. Believe it or not, not all of us like to see you guys fighting all the time."

I turned back, glad that Mr. Thompson was still immersed in his lecture and hadn't noticed us speaking. After five minutes, the back of my seat was being kicked repeatedly. I tried so hard to ignore it. "What?" I hissed when it became too much, whipping around to face the guy behind me again.

"Y'know, I think I've seen you somewhere before," he said thoughtfully, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. Uh, was he being serious or was he trying to hit on me?

"Probably in this class," I answered, deadpan.

"Naw, that ain't it." He studied me as I stared, unamused, back at him. He almost fell out of his seat when he eventually got to whatever conclusion he was aiming for. He gave a loud laugh and I quickly faced forward again, putting on my most innocent expression when Mr. Thompson paused and glanced over.

"Find something amusing, Mr. Mathews?" He questioned.

"That's a heavy question for me, sir," the guy sitting behind me answered back, casual as anything. Mr. Thompson sent him a warning look, before resuming his teaching. I turned back around slowly, curious as to where this guy remembered me from. He grinned at me. "You're that gal from the carnival! The one in the red dress Soda ran into."

I flushed at his realisation. I had forgotten other people except Sodapop had been there that night. "That must be it," I replied, managing to sound snarky.

He chuckled, more than likely at the memory of me falling over. As I faced the front of the class again, I heard him mutter, "You dig okay, blondie." I supposed, sort of, that this was a long-winded way of him thanking me for defending Ponyboy. "An' you look real good in red, by the way." I rolled my eyes, leaning my head on my propped-up hand.

"What was that all about?" Nancy inquired as we headed to the cafeteria for lunch. "What did Two-Bit Mathews have to say that was so important?" Two-Bit? Would _every_ greaser I meet have a funky name? This one sounded like more of a nickname, but you could never be sure after meeting people named Ponyboy and Sodapop.

I shrugged, looping my arm through Nancy's. "He was just surprised I stood up for that kid earlier, seeing as I'm a soc and he's a greaser."

* * *

On Friday we were all over at Cherry's house for the night. I had never had a girly slumber party in my life, where you talk about boys and do each other's hair. The real thing turned out to be pretty much what I had been expecting. Cherry and Marcia spoke fondly of their boyfriends, Bob Sheldon and Randy Anderson, respectively. Socs, too, naturally. The rest of us discussed boys we found cute.

"I'm thinkin' of tryin' out for the cheerleadin' squad," Cherry announced when the conversation moved on from boys. Cynthia was currently sitting behind me, messing with my hair, attempting to get it into as many different styles as possible.

"Of course _you_ are," she snorted. "And you'll make it."

"Ain't you gonna try, Cynth?" Marcia asked. "You'd be real good."

"Gymnastics takes up too much time already," she replied.

"I might try out," Peggy spoke up. "I need somethin' new to do, I'm bored."

Nancy turned to me, grinning. "What about you, Rox?"

"Me? Cheerleading? I don't think so," I said.

"Why not?" Cherry asked. "I think you'd be great. So long as you don't start any fights."

The others giggled at this. The tale of me standing up for Ponyboy had spread to them fairly quickly. "It was hardly a fight," I shot back, grinning nonetheless. "Anyway, why _should_ I try out for the cheerleading squad? Give me one good reason."

There was a short pause as they thought. "Cute boys?" Cynthia offered and we all burst into fits of giggles again. The conversation was back onto boys.

"Speakin' of which," Cherry then said, smirking over at me in a way that made me a little nervous. "Bob told me one of his friends finds you real pretty, Rox. He might even ask you on a date."

My face dropped, along with my stomach. "Which friend?" I asked, trying to sound intrigued. Which I was, but not for the reason they thought.

"Daniel Miller."

There were plenty of nice-looking boys I saw around school, and Daniel Miller was one of them. But I found myself not remotely interested in any of them romantically, going on a date with any of them was my idea of a complete nightmare. My single friends were obsessed with the idea of dating, and that was where I differed from them. To them, it was like the most important thing in the world; get a nice boyfriend who could show you off.

"Ah. See, I'm not really up for dating right now," I explained, trying to sound modest. "Tell him I'm flattered but I'm not interested."

"Betcha you would be if it was Sodapop," Peggy muttered, but we all heard. Everyone looked at me at once and heat rose in my cheeks.

"Well, yeah, because he's gorgeous," I said, trying to be blasé. "Who _wouldn't_ turn down a date with him?" Yes, dating wasn't a big deal to me, but I knew for a fact that if it was Sodapop asking me on one, I probably wouldn't be able to turn him down.

"Oh, Rox. You're not still hung up on him, are you?" Cherry asked. Wait, 'still'? When was I ever?

"What? I've never been 'hung up' on him," I answered, laughing slightly so I didn't sound too offended. "I'm just not interested in Daniel Miller."

Saying this didn't really help at all, to be honest. Sometimes I wished I just kept my mouth shut.

* * *

 **I know I promised exciting things and this is probably where they start. And Soda will be making an appearance again soon ;-)**

 **If you are enjoying this, I would love some feedback!**


	5. Butterflies

**Hey, another chapter! I'm gonna keep saying this but reviews/favourites/follows really do motivate me. Plus I'm trying to put up as many chapters as I can before I go back to university, because it will be a harder for me to update when I do. Also, not to worry ImaginedElegance, you will be seeing more Two-Bit!**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

It soon became Cherry's mission to get me to like Daniel Miller, or at least agree to a date. No matter how many times I told her that I wasn't interested, she just became more determined. Daniel Miller wasn't exactly bad to look at, but he wasn't spectacularly gorgeous either. His eyes unnerved me. They were blue, an icy cold blue. Not the kind of blue that sparkled like my mom's. I had begun to notice the way these eyes trailed up and down my body when I passed him in the hall, pretending I hadn't seen him. When I told my friends they thought it was something I should have been flattered by. Except I wasn't flattered, not one bit.

I was glad that the topic of conversation at lunch was cheerleading and not Daniel Miller. "I don't care what you say, Rox, you're tryin' out with us," Cherry commanded as soon as I sat down at our usual table. By 'us' she meant herself, Peggy and Marcia. Cynthia, as she'd previously stated, had gymnastics to worry about, while Nancy's parents wouldn't let her try out because they weren't too keen on the uniforms.

"Look, I told you, I'm not cheerleader material," I answered back.

"How do you know if you've never tried?" Marcia asked.

"You're just a little insecure," Peggy pointed out. "It's easy, really. You just learn the routine."

My defences started to crumble. She was right, the idea of cheering in front of so many people caused anxiety to gnaw at my mind. But, it wouldn't hurt to at least try out, right? "Okay," I finally said. "Why not? Could be fun."

"Plus, Daniel's on the football team," Cherry said in a sing-song voice. "You'd see him a lot."

"Great," I deadpanned.

* * *

I met Steve Randle on the same day I saw Sodapop for the second time.

Cherry and I had decided to spend the day together. It was a particularly pleasant day and she had called me, asking if I wanted to get out of the house. I agreed right away. Besides, I never passed up an opportunity to ride in Cherry's car without four other girls. So we were driving along in her Stingray convertible, with me singing along loudly to whatever song came on the radio. Cherry suddenly turned the radio down and announced that she needed to stop for gas, promptly pulling into a DX station.

Whilst the tank was being filled, I decided I might as well go inside for some food. Cherry joined me moments later, claiming she needed a drink and some magazines. As soon as we stepped inside, my eyes found a few girls by the cash register, socs and greasers alike. This was strange enough on its own, but in a gas station?

Oh. _Oh._ This must have been the one Sodapop worked at. Marcia had told me he worked full-time at a gas station after I questioned her about why I never saw him at school, and he seemed to attract girls wherever he went. It was the only explanation.

But I could see that he wasn't currently working the counter, and the small amount of girls that had turned up hoping to see him were clearly growing bored. The guy that _was_ working the counter didn't have the same movie-star good-looks Sodapop did. I supposed that it probably didn't help that he had a scowl stuck on his face, making him look rather unfriendly.

I didn't avert my gaze in time when he lifted his head, catching me studying him. "Can I help you?" He snapped.

Stupidly, I stared at him for a couple of seconds before I managed to utter a reply, "Uh, no, I'm good, thanks." And I quickly turned my attention to seeking out Cherry, who had wandered off somewhere. I began to make my way towards the convenience part of the station, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey," he began, sounding curious, but still irritated. I faced him again apprehensively, wondering if he was going to chew me out or something. "Ain't I seen you somewhere before?"

My eyes widened. Oh, please don't tell me…

He smirked then, revealing teeth that weren't exactly pearly whites. It definitely felt like he was smirking _at_ me and a nervous blush began to crawl up my neck and onto my cheeks. It intensified when he yelled over his shoulder, "Hey, Soda, get in here."

My stomach tightened with dread. _Oh, god._ Why was I so nervous, you ask? Well mine and Sodapop's first meeting wasn't exactly the best way to meet someone, and his friends that had been there seemed to remember it vividly. It wouldn't surprise me if they often laughed about it.

 _Hey, remember when Soda ran into that gal at the carnival and we nearly saw her underwear? What a gas!_

Sodapop appeared from what I assumed was the garage, looking confused as he wiped his hands on a rag. I was frozen. Nowhere to run now, I just had to face it. His eyes went from his co-worker to me, the confused expression dropping off of his face to be replaced a smile. Damn it. "Hey, candy apple girl!" He greeted cheerily. Yep, he remembered. "How ya been?"

And just like that, miraculously, the nerves and tension started to fade. It didn't seem like he was about to make fun of me, in fact he appeared happy to see me, as if we were old friends. And he had this energy that put me at ease. I found myself smiling and stepping closer to the counter. "I've been good," I replied. "But I'd be better if you didn't refer to me as 'candy apple girl'. Call me Roxanne."

Sodapop considered me, still smiling. Being under his scrutiny like this made my insides twist. "Ah. So, you must be Roxanne Kennedy, am I right?" I blinked, completely dumbfounded. How did he know that?

Then the other guy leant towards him and muttered, "Two-Bit's told me about this chick."

"I heard that," I snarled, snapping out of it. "And whatever Two-Bit Mathews has to say about me is probably a lie. I'm not that interesting."

Sodapop spoke before a comeback could be made. "Steve, why don't ya go work in the back, huh? I'll take the counter for a while." Steve shrugged, seemingly in agreement, sending me a strange look before he disappeared through the same door Sodapop had come from. Sodapop turned back to me, one eyebrow raised. "Ain't from 'round here, are ya?" He asked.

"What makes you say that?" I asked in return.

"Your accent."

I grinned, I knew this would be his answer. "You got me. I'm from Boston."

Then he smiled again and it was as if sparks were flying inside my head. "Well, Miss Roxanne from Boston," he began, holding out a hand. "My name's Sodapop Curtis. Pleasure to meetcha properly."

"I know who you are," I said without thinking as I shook his hand.

"That so?" He inquired, adjusting the cap on his head

I caught myself and smiled sheepishly. "I've just… heard people mention you."

"That's alright, my brother Ponyboy talks about you. Says you're nice, different. That's how I guessed who you were."

I could only gawp at him as he said this. Ponyboy was his brother? I almost slapped myself. Of course; he said his surname was Curtis. It was obvious now, yet I still replied with, "Wait, _that's_ your brother?"

"Sure is," Sodapop said, leaning forward onto the counter. "He told me all 'bout you standin' up for him. That was real kind."

"It was nothing," I mumbled shyly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I like him, he's a good kid."

Sodapop's smile grew. "That he is." In that moment I realised that Sodapop must have been the person Ponyboy loved more than anyone else – the older brother he mentioned that first English class. "Between you an' me," he continued conversationally. "I think he's got a bit of a crush on you."

I gave a small laugh. "That's cute."

"I mean, I sure wouldn't blame him if he did," Sodapop then said, completely nonchalant. I blushed, feeling even my ears redden. Was Sodapop Curtis hitting on me? A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the amount of girls he attracted, no doubt he flirted all the time.

Luckily, Cherry reappeared before I could say something stupid in response, all bright-eyed and beaming. She was clearly under Sodapop's spell, too. She paid for her things, thanking him cheerfully. "C'mon, Rox," she said, nudging my arm and heading for the exit.

"Guess I gotta go," I told Sodapop.

"Looks like," he replied. "See ya 'round, Miss Roxanne from Boston." Surely he knew who Cherry was, and by extension knew that I, too, was a soc. Though he had probably already guessed that from my clothes. But if he was bothered, he sure didn't let it show.

"You damn hypocrite," I chastised Cherry as we drove away a few minutes later, speaking through my laughter. "You were practically drooling in there."

Cherry grinned over at me, shaking her head. "Well, at least I didn't forget to buy food 'cause I was too busy flirtin'."

Damn, I knew I forgot something.

* * *

Cheerleader try-outs were on Friday and I dreaded it the entire week. When Cherry, Peggy, Marcia and I entered the gym, I was immediately daunted by the amount of pretty girls. Tall, slim girls who looked like they were designed to be cheerleaders.

To begin with, I was very self-conscious, though I soon began to find myself having fun. Peggy had been right, it was easier than I had been expecting. I didn't know if it was supposed to be a serious affair, but I spent a good deal of my time laughing.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered on Monday that I had made the squad, as had my friends. I must have done something right, then.

"Y'know what's a perfect way to celebrate?" Peggy asked us as we moved away from the notice board.

"What's that?" Marcia responded.

"Jennifer Moore's havin' a party on Saturday night and we're all goin'."

I actually really liked the sound of that; I had never been to a proper party before. And Peggy was right, it was the perfect way to celebrate.

It was too bad that I'd end up quitting the cheerleading squad before even having the chance to cheer at a football game.

* * *

 **I hate sounding like I'm begging but reviews really would be amazing, I love knowing what people like about this :-)**


	6. Gods and Monsters

**Once again, I really appreciate all the reviews/favourites/follows! ImaginedElegance, what you said about my writing style made me feel so happy so thank you for that :-)**

 **So this is the longest chapter so far and it's probably the one I've been most nervous about posting.**

 **Just a warning, there's mentions of sexual assault but it is very brief and doesn't go into much detail.**

* * *

I worried about what I was going to wear to the party pretty much all week. I was aware it was a rather superficial thing to be so concerned about but it was my first party in Tulsa, my first party _ever_. This on top of receiving my cheerleader outfit (the royal blue colour of which I loved), practising the first routine for the upcoming football game and schoolwork, provided for a busy week at school.

Nancy and Peggy came over to my house on the Friday after school so I could showcase some of outfits to them. I didn't want to wear any old blouse and skirt to a party, on the other hand I wore dresses a lot, and I thought pants would be too casual. So you see my dilemma.

"I mean, you look good in anything," Peggy said as I twirled in front of my mirror, examining the pale green dress I was currently wearing.

"But none of them feel right," I replied with an aggravated huff.

"I really like the red one," Nancy declared.

"I wore that to the carnival," I reminded her, waving my hand dismissively. I moved back over to my closet, sifting through my clothes again. My eyes caught a dark blue dress, similar to the colour of the cheerleader uniforms, one I hadn't yet tried on or even worn in a long time. Pulling it out, I held it up so Nancy and Peggy could assess it.

Nancy beamed while Peggy said, "That's the one."

* * *

I'd offered to drive everyone to Jennifer Moore's party, the only problem being I didn't have my own car. Meaning I had to ask my dad if I could borrow his. Why did I offer before getting his permission? Because I wanted an excuse to not drink so much. I also wanted to be the one driving everyone around for once. My dad had this sleek, black '57 Chevy Bel Air and it was his absolute pride and joy. I would kill to be able to drive it.

Right away I knew I'd picked a bad time to broach the subject when I knocked on his office door. As I'd suspected, he was hard at work, surrounded by piles of paperwork. Yet, when he raised his head, he offered me his usual smile. I sat in the armchair by the bookcase, giving him my sweetest smile.

"So, daddy," I began, seeing the way his eyebrow drew together in suspicion. He knew I wanted something. "My friends and I are going to this party tomorrow night, and I sorta, maybe offered to drive us all there."

He didn't reply straightaway, just stared at me while I held my breath in anticipation. Perhaps I should have lied a little, made it seem of the utmost importance that _I_ was the one who drove. "Why did you offer? You don't have a car," he said eventually. I gave him an awkward sort of smile, hoping he'd get the hint. His face dropped when he did. "Oh."

"Daddy, _they_ always drive _me_ everywhere. I wanna return the favour. And you know I'll be careful," I explained, pouting and giving him my best kicked-puppy look. "Please, daddy. I really want to go to this party. All my friends are going."

My dad just continued to stare at me, but I could tell by the way his eyebrows raised that I was wearing him down. "Will there be drinking at this party?" He asked.

"Maybe," I answered. "But not on my part."

This seemed to put his mind at ease. A little, at least. "So long as you are extra careful and make it home in time for your curfew, you can borrow my car."

I leapt out of the seat, skipping around his desk to hug him and kiss his cheek. "I promise! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

* * *

Meeting Dallas Winston was unlike any other meeting I had with a resident of Tulsa.

After picking up my friends in my dad's car, Peggy insisted we stop at this store to buy some alcohol, swearing blind she would get served if she flirted with the cashier. I didn't doubt her for a second and joined her in the store to see her at work.

All I wanted was to look at magazine while discreetly watching Peggy flirt her way to acquiring alcohol, but then this greaser shoved past me and didn't even acknowledge he'd done so, so then my attention was fully on him. My first mistake: glaring at him while he shoved a pack of cigarettes into his pocket. He turned, catching me watching him.

"Got a problem?" He spat.

The glare slipped right off of my face. Okay, I normally managed to stand up for myself just fine, but Dallas Winston was downright scary even after uttering three words to me. There was something in his eyes that gave me no desire whatsoever to cross him. My retort caught in my throat as I looked up at him, shrinking under his scowl. "N-no," I squeaked.

Next mistake: letting my eyes snap to the pocket that held the stolen cigarettes.

"What?" He growled. "Gonna rat me out, huh?" I observed then, that his accent was slightly different. It sounded eastern, like mine but not exactly Bostonian, and with a hint of southern.

My voice was still an octave too high when I spoke again, "Nope."

He gave me a very unfriendly smile, shoving past me once again on his way out of the store. Peggy appeared where he had been stood moments later, smirking and holding up a bag triumphantly. "Told ya," she said. I quickly regained my composure, laughing and following her back outside.

I had to park the car a street over from Jennifer Moore's house because her street was already lined with cars on both sides. Peggy had gotten a six-pack of beer and had passed one around to each of us. I let her have mine and she didn't even question it, chugging it right away. That girl could drink. They couldn't have been drunk yet, but they were all very giggly, jumping out of the car as soon as I parked it. "C'mon, Rox!" Nancy cried, grabbing my arm and dragging me after the others.

Ahead of us, Peggy and Cherry were arm-in-arm, laughing about something. Marcia and Cynthia's heads were close together as they walked, no doubt they were already gossiping. I suddenly felt a rush of love for these girls; I had never been so glad that Nancy Wilson turned up at my front door.

When Nancy and I got to the steps of Jennifer Moore's house, a familiar voice called out, "Hey, blondie!" I sighed, throwing my head back before looking over to see Two-Bit Mathews sitting on the top step, smoking a cigarette. "Well, hey, shoulda known this'd be your scene," he continued, grinning.

"Yeah, didn't think it'd be yours," I replied, climbing the steps.

"A party's a party, ain't it?" Two-Bit called after me as I disappeared inside the house. I was so excited to be at this party that I didn't even consider that if Two-Bit was here, perhaps that meant other greasers would be, too.

The party was already in full-swing, the house already filled with people. There were pretty girls in nice dresses of every colour, some of them dancing with guys in button-down shirts. The music was loud, The Beach Boys currently playing. Nancy and I found Peggy, Cynthia and Marcia by the drinks, Cherry was on the other side of the room with Bob. I decided then to avoid him at all costs; every time he saw me he mentioned Daniel. I bet he and Cherry were in on it together, devising a plan to get me to go on a date with this boy.

"That dress was definitely a good call," Peggy commented, nodding at my outfit and taking a sip of her drink.

"That colour really suits you, Rox. It's like the cheerleader uniforms," Cynthia pointed out, making the same comparison I had. "But you can pull of any colour." I eyed her pretty yellow dress, one colour I could not pull off.

"Please, stop with the flattery," I protested with a grin. "You all look great, too."

Marcia suddenly choked on her drink and we all froze, staring at her. "Don't look now," she said quietly, looking directly at me. "Daniel Miller's comin' this way."

 _Oh, no_. My eyes darted around in search of an escape, but Cherry's hand was on my arm before I could get away. I turned reluctantly, putting on a fake smile. "There you are!" She cried, positively beaming at me. "I wanna introduce you to someone."

Cherry gestured to Daniel Miller standing next to her, icy blue eyes still not failing to unnerve me as he smiled down at me. "Hey," he greeted. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Daniel."

He held his hand out for me to place mine in, which I did after a moment's hesitation, noting absently how big they were; he could crush me. He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. I almost snatched it from his grasp in disgust. "Roxanne," I replied politely. "Nice to meet you."

Daniel glanced at the girls, who hurriedly looked away as if they hadn't been watching. I wanted the ground to swallow me. "I don't wanna take you away from your friends, but I'd love to get you a drink and talk a little?" Daniel suggested.

I stared pleadingly at my friends but they simply ignored me. "No, please, take her," Cynthia said enthusiastically as they all began to back away into the crowd.

"Have fun!" Cherry yelled. Damn that girl. Nancy caught my expression at the last second, sending me an encouraging smile in response.

Great. My first party and I would be spending it with the one guy I wanted to avoid more than anything.

Daniel grabbed two cups from the table beside us, handing me one even though I had no intention of drinking it. "So, Cherry's told me a lot about you," he began, sipping his own drink.

"Yeah, I bet she has," I muttered, then raised my voice to reply to him properly. "Anything good?"

"She told me you made the cheerleadin' squad," he said. "I'm on the football team. Seein' you cheer will definitely up my game." He shot me a quick wink and I had to physically refrain myself from rolling my eyes.

The turntable changed to _Twist and Shout_ and I swear every girl in the room screamed. I was so disappointed – this was one of my favourite songs by the Beatles, but I knew I wouldn't be able to dance to it without Daniel joining me. I considered excusing myself when he leant towards me, speaking close to my ear so I could hear him over the noise, "Wanna go somewhere a bit quieter?"

His hand was on my elbow before I could even stutter out a reply, guiding me out of the living room. The quietest part of the house was the upstairs landing. As soon as I realised that was where he was leading me, I looked over my shoulder in a desperate attempt to find any of my friends, with no luck. Daniel's grasp on my arm tightened as we climbed the stairs, preventing me from shaking him loose. He retained this hold on me even when we stopped on the landing. Up here it was mainly couples making out and people leaning against the walls, talking quietly. Daniel glanced around, then opened the nearest door and dragged me into the room after him.

It was a bedroom, definitely teenage, probably belonged to Jennifer Moore. "Why are we in here?" I asked Daniel, trying to remain calm. I did not want to be _this_ alone with him. He was standing in front of the door as if purposely blocking my only way out.

"It's quiet," he answered smoothly, stepping forward.

"So is the landing," I replied, taking a nervous step back.

"Yeah, but in here I can be alone with you," Daniel responded. He was smiling but those unsettling eyes were doing him no favours. "I've wanted to be alone with you since I first saw you. I think you're beautiful."

"That's sweet," I said, giving a jittery laugh. "But I don't think this is a good time. I came with my friends, they'll probably be wondering where I am."

"I know what you're doin', Roxanne." He advanced on me further and I stepped backwards again, my back hitting the wall.

"What am I doing?" I whispered, my fear peaking at my sudden claustrophobic situation.

"Playin' hard to get." Daniel's hand slammed on the wall beside my head. His eyes were the coldest I'd ever seen them. "Like you do at school, in the halls. You walk by me like you ain't even seen me. But I know you do. And I know you want me, too."

Then his body was crushing mine between it and the wall, his hands grabbing at the bottom of my dress. "Daniel – Daniel stop," I choked out, trying to push him away. "Get off of me!" My attempts to push him off of me were futile, he was a lot bigger than me.

Suddenly the door burst open, flooding the room with light and sound. Then there was a loud, distantly familiar, laugh, followed by someone yelling, "We got a couple o' live ones in here!" There was another laugh, belonging to someone else.

I could imagine myself peering over Daniel's arm like a deer caught in headlights, hoping whoever had barged in would see how distressed I was, that this was not what they thought it was. Immediately I locked eyes with Sodapop Curtis, whose smile slipped off of his face the second he recognised me.

Everything happened really fast after that. Sodapop darted forward and shouted, "Get offa her!" He dragged Daniel away from me, proceeding to punch him with so much momentum he fell to the floor. If nothing else, at least I was an excuse for a greaser to punch a soc.

I was completely frozen, barely breathing as I stared, unfocused, at Daniel on the floor. Only when Sodapop looked back at me did I snap out of it, pushing myself away from the wall and bolting from the room, running past Two-Bit stood by the door. I knew I'd recognised that laugh.

"Roxanne! Roxanne, wait up!" Sodapop was calling after me, following me out of the room and down the stairs. But I didn't acknowledge him, didn't respond, I just kept going. I didn't stop running until I was out of the house. I didn't think about my friends, about how they would get home. All I wanted was to get away from that house. Sodapop continued to call my name but I couldn't bear to face him. I walked briskly, my face flushed despite the cool wind. He caught up to me, though, grabbing my arm.

I stopped, whirling around and yanking my arm from his grasp. Anger burned in my veins, boiling to the surface. "What? Come to ridicule me?" I snapped. "Didn't get your jollies in there so you came out here for more?"

He appeared momentarily surprised, before narrowing his eyes challengingly. I should have known he wouldn't be one not to stand up for himself, especially against the likes of me. "Hey now, I just saved you," he answered back, calmly but defensively.

"Well I didn't ask to be saved!" I knew I was being unreasonable. I wasn't angry _at_ _him._ He was right, if he and Two-Bit hadn't turned up when they did, who knows what could have happened. Sure, Two-Bit had burst in the room ready to mock a couple of socs who were making out, but he wasn't to know what was really happening. I was just humiliated and Sodapop was there for me to take it out on.

"Yeah? Sure didn't look like you were havin' such a ball."

My anger started to disintegrate rapidly, replaced by shame that caused a painful lump to lodge itself in my throat. I lowered my gaze, rubbing my arms as I finally felt the effects of the wind. The next time Sodapop spoke, his voice was much softer, "Here." I raised my head again to see he was standing closer, shrugging out of his flannel shirt, leaving him in just the white t-shirt underneath.

"No, Soda—" I started to protest but he cut me off.

"C'mon, I'm tryna be a gentleman."

Now I felt really bad for yelling at him. He held the shirt out to me, shaking it insistently until I took it and pulled it on. It was a little big, the sleeves going past my hands, but it was really comfortable. I could smell cigarette smoke and something sweeter; something Sodapop. I briefly wondered how many girls had had the privilege of experiencing this.

"Thanks, Sodapop," I said softly, offering a weak smile. "And… I'm sorry for yelling at you."

He shrugged. "Ain't a problem." Then he smiled that goddamn smile of his, the one that made me feel like I was listening to _Love Me Tender_ for the first time again. "Keep the shirt, looks good on ya," he then said. His eyes were bright and friendly, a welcomed changed from the coldness of Daniel's eyes.

For a moment we kind of stood there awkwardly while I wondered what I could say, but Sodapop was the one to break the silence. "Y'know, if things were different, I'd prolly offer to walk ya home."

"It's okay," I told him, understanding what he meant right away. He wouldn't exactly be welcome in my neighbourhood. "I, uh, need to get my dad's car back anyway. You go enjoy the rest of the party."

I smiled unconvincingly and gave him a small wave, before turning to make my way to the next street over where I'd parked the car. When I glanced back, pulling the shirt tighter around myself, Sodapop was stood in the same spot, watching me with a slight frown.

* * *

My parents were surprised, to say the least, when I arrived home long before my curfew. "What happened?" My mom asked, scanning me worriedly.

"Nothing happened, it just wasn't a very good party," I replied, giving her the best smile I could muster. "My friends are making their own way home." They would have to do, anyway, I'd left them there without a ride home. They would definitely tell me off for this at school on Monday.

"Where did you get the shirt?" My dad questioned.

Oh. I'd forgotten about that. "My friend let me borrow it. I was cold." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie.

"Which friend?" My dad then asked, no doubt because he knew for a fact it was a boy's shirt.

"Look, can I just go to bed, please? I'm really tired." I felt bad for brushing them off when they were clearly concerned, but what could I say to them? I bid them goodnight and began climbing the stairs without giving them chance to argue.

For a while I simply sat on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest and inhaling the scent of Sodapop's shirt. Honestly, it was the only thing I could find comfort in in that moment.

* * *

 **So I guess you can see why I was nervous about this chapter. It's a pretty sensitive topic but it isn't a major plot point. It's more of a set-up for future things, but it isn't going to define Roxanne for the rest of the story.**

 **Anyway I hope you enjoyed!**


	7. Friends in Low Places

**Hey! Sorry for the wait, I had writer's block on top of being pretty busy but I finally finished this chapter. Also, thanks for the positive feedback for the previous chapter!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

First thing on Monday I handed in my cheerleader uniform. I was glad that I hadn't had a chance to grow too attached before I quit. I knew I couldn't be on the squad with Daniel on the football team; I wouldn't be able to handle seeing him that often after what he did to me. Not yet, at least. I could only hope I'd be taken back if I ever decided I wanted to be on the squad again.

It felt like everybody was staring at me, whispering about me. I suspected that the story of what had happened at Jennifer Moore's party had spread, though probably not the truthful version. My friends confirmed my suspicions at lunch.

"Is it true?" Cynthia asked almost immediately after I sat down.

"Is what true?" I responded tiredly.

"People are sayin' you left the party with Sodapop Curtis," Marcia said, sounding a mixture of concerned and curious.

"Yeah and left us without a ride home," Peggy spoke up, clearly annoyed.

"I didn't technically leave _with_ him," I answered back. "He was just making sure I was okay."

Cherry narrowed her eyes at this. "Okay with what?" She asked.

I hesitated. Cherry was the one who introduced me to Daniel, who had tried so hard to get us together. It wasn't her fault that he turned out to be so mean and I didn't want her to feel bad about it. But these were my friends. They would understand. Right?

"I, uh, ended up in a bit of… trouble with Daniel. He was coming onto me, I didn't want him to… and Sodapop stopped him. That's it," I explained.

A short silence followed as my friends processed this. I stared down at my food, not wanting to see their expressions. "That's not what I heard," Peggy said, breaking the silence.

My head snapped up. "What _did_ you hear?" I questioned.

"Well, some people are sayin' those boys were fightin' over you," she answered. "And you obviously picked the greaser because you left the party with him."

"And you believe that?" I spat and she simply shrugged. I told myself she was just annoyed I'd left them without a ride home, that this was the reason she was being like this with me. Peggy Richardson was not one to forgive easily, even for little things.

"Shut up, Peggy," Cynthia hissed, shooting her a glare before turning to me with a soft smile. "Rox, are you sure Daniel was doin' what you think he was?"

I regarded her with an incredulous look. "How _couldn't_ I be sure?"

Cynthia shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Maybe you unknowingly led him on?"

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. Sure, none of them had been there, they had heard different people telling different versions of the story, but _I_ had actually been there. How could they doubt me? I opened my mouth to retort when Cherry jumped in, "She just means it's hard to imagine Daniel bein' like that. We've known him a long time."

"Yeah, well, you clearly don't know him as well as you thought," I snapped, getting to my feet and marching out of the cafeteria.

"Roxanne!" I turned as Nancy caught up with me, looking worried. She had been quiet until now – perhaps what she wanted to say she felt she couldn't in front on the others. "Don't listen to the rumours, Rox. If you say Daniel came onto you, then he did. If you say Sodapop helped you, then he helped you. Peggy's just upset she had to find another ride home. The others feel threatened, they're not used to having bad rumours associated with them. They'll be over it by tomorrow."

I smiled. "Thanks, Nance." She returned the smile, pulling me into a hug. I felt a little better about the whole thing. Nancy was always a bright light in my life, someone who supported me through everything.

* * *

I couldn't concentrate on my homework once again. It was spread out before me but my eyes stared unfocused at one corner of my room. I couldn't stop thinking about the stupid rumours people were spreading, about how people actually believed Sodapop and Daniel fought over me and how the latter was made out to be the victim. _I_ was the victim. _I_ had been assaulted and people were focusing on the drama. My friends, with the exception of Nancy, were too worried about their reputation to worry about me. My eyes refocused, landing on the flannel shirt thrown over the back of my chair.

Suddenly I was overcome with the urge to see Sodapop again. Apart from Nancy, he was the only one who understood. He had actually been there, he knew what had happened. I needed someone to talk to and my friends weren't listening. He seemed like the logical solution.

I hurried downstairs, finding my parents in the kitchen. My mom was preparing dinner, chatting to my dad while he read the newspaper. "Dad, can I borrow your car?" I asked as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, forgetting to be extra sweet.

"Where are you going at this time?" My mom inquired, stopping what she was doing to face me.

Now I smiled, acting casual. "Cherry needs to borrow some books, it's pretty urgent," I lied smoothly, before turning to my dad. "I'll stop for gas, too."

My dad smiled and folded the newspaper, placing it on the counter in front of him. "I suppose you got it back in one piece on Saturday night," he said, tossing me the keys.

I thanked him and all but ran out of the house. "Be home for dinner!" My mom called after me.

I sat in my dad's car outside the DX for at least ten minutes before plucking up the courage to go in. I hesitated again by the door upon stepping inside, wondering if this was a good idea after all, fiddling anxiously with a button on my blouse. Luckily Sodapop was working the counter today, currently serving two girls – an all-time-low for the amount of girls I normally saw swarming him, which I could only assume was because it was almost dinner-time. I watched him as he made small-talk, smiling the whole time. I found my anxiety was eased slightly; he had a smile that could light up this whole damn town.

When the girls he was serving turned to leave, Sodapop raised his head and caught me standing by the door. The girls walked by me, shutting the door behind them and leaving the two of us in silence. "Hey, Roxanne," he eventually greeted, kindly.

"Hey," I replied quietly, finally walking towards the counter.

"You alright?" He asked as I came to a stop in front of him.

I shrugged. "Sorta," I replied. "I guess… I guess I just needed someone to talk to. My friends don't really understand."

"About the party?"

I nodded, before taking a step back. "Sorry, this wasn't really a good idea. I should go."

"Hey, it's alright," Sodapop said, giving me a gentler smile. "If ya need to talk to someone I'll listen." I eyed him apprehensively, debating what to do. If anybody saw me here, it would only fuel the rumours more. Then I reasoned that it was unlikely many people from high school would pass through here at this time of day.

Finally I heaved a deep sigh, stepping forward again. "Well, there's, uh, rumours going around that we left the party together… After you and Daniel had a fight over me."

Sodapop snorted and I narrowed my eyes, confused. "Now there's one thing I don't miss 'bout high school; all the rumours." He grinned and a peculiar warmth spread through my chest. "You're cute, Roxanne, but I don't think I'd fight a guy for ya unless he was doin' somethin' wrong."

This was sort of a backhanded compliment, but I was far too focused on the fact he'd just called me cute. I agreed with him, though, I wouldn't want him, or any guy for that matter, fighting over me. I tilted my head slightly as I asked, "So it's true you work here full-time, then?"

"I'm a dropout," he answered simply. I just nodded. What could I say to that that didn't sound offensive or pitying? Besides, it didn't change my opinion of him, it was one tiny detail. "Are these rumours botherin' ya?" He then asked.

I shrugged again. "Only because they're not true. And they're making Daniel out to be the victim in all this." I paused, my hand going to that button on my blouse again. "My friends care more about their reputation. They don't like the idea of me leaving a party with a greaser."

Now it was Sodapop's turn to shrug. "It's just high school drama, Roxanne," he told me, smiling again. "Betcha tomorrow everyone will've forgotten 'bout it."

I nodded, hoping he was right. "I quit the cheerleading squad because of him," I blurted. "He's on the football team and I can't face him. Not yet."

Sodapop's smile became softer. "Well, I hope one day you can. He's the bad guy, not you."

* * *

Sodapop was right. Sort of. It took a least a few days for everyone to stop talking about what had happened at Jennifer Moore's part and move onto some new drama. On the Tuesday, Cherry caught up to me after school as I attempted to get away from the few people who still liked to stare.

"Hey, Rox," she greeted gently, placing a hand on my arm so I would stop walking. I did, turning to face her hesitantly. "Listen, I, uh, wanted to apologise for yesterday." She paused, brushing her red hair out of her face nervously. I could tell there was something else she wanted to say but I didn't want to rush her.

Eventually her eyes met mine again, her expression determined. "And I wanted to apologise for leavin' you alone with Daniel. I could tell you didn't wanna be but… I thought you were just bein' shy or awkward." She paused again, glancing away for a moment. "I shoulda known somethin' was off, but I guess I was excited to set you up. And he's friends with Bob so I didn't think—"

"Cherry," I interrupted, smiling. "You're forgiven. Not that any of it was your fault, anyway."

She grinned and exhaled in relief. "Thanks, Rox." Then she looped her arm through mine, leading me in the opposite direction towards her car. "So, you gonna tell me what _really_ happened with Sodapop?"

"Exactly what I told you." I answered, rolling my eyes. Cherry's grin widened, now seeming somewhat secretive. Something told me it would be a while before she let this go.

On the Wednesday, Cynthia caught me by my locker to apologise for suggesting I'd led Daniel on. "I was just surprised, y'know? But I'm sure ya did nothin' wrong. Daniel Miller's a damn creep."

I huffed a laugh. "Thanks, Cynth."

At lunch on the same day, Peggy – with lots of persuasion from Marcia and Nancy – apologised for the way she acted on Monday. "I mean, obviously I still don't think ya shoulda left with a greaser. And us without a ride—"

" _Apologising_ , Peg," Marcia hissed.

Peggy looked back at me and her expression softened, surprising me slightly. "I _am_ sorry, Rox. I don't actually believe the rumours. It's just high school drama." And just like that, I was reminded of Sodapop.

Two-Bit Mathews was the one person I expected to make a joke about the whole thing, yet the first time I saw him after the incident he simply gave me a small nod, leaving me very perplexed.

It was by Thursday that the rumours died down. None of my friends mentioned Daniel Miller again and I couldn't be gladder. Now I just wanted to move on and get on with my life.

* * *

On Friday after school, Nancy and I were in my bedroom doing homework together once again. _Trying_ would be a better word. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate history?" She said at one point, throwing her pencil down.

"Multiple times," I replied, smirking over at her. She got up off of my bed, proceeding to stroll around my room and study my belongings. She paused at my desk, pulling out the chair to sit down so she could carefully rifle through my records.

"You have great taste in music," she commented, grinning over at me as she stood again, pushing the chair back under the desk. She halted, looking down at the chair curiously, letting a sleeve of the flannel shirt run across her hand. "Whose shirt is this?" She asked, turning back to me with her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, it's Sodapop's," I answered. "He gave it to me at the party because I was cold." Nancy continued to stare at me. "What?"

"Sodapop Curtis _gave_ you his shirt and you're bein' real casual about it."

"Come on, he was just being a gentleman," I explained, echoing what Sodapop himself had said upon giving me the shirt. "I was considering giving it back, actually. Could've done the other day."

"Wait, what?" Nancy cried, moving towards me. "You saw him _again_? Is there somethin' I'm missin'?"

"No, Nance!" I said with a small laugh. "I just wanted to talk to him after the Daniel thing. He _was_ there when it happened."

"Makes sense, I guess," Nancy said, nodding. Then she dived onto my bed again, smiley as ever. "Promise me you'll tell me if somethin' happens again with you two."

I rolled my eyes but humoured her anyway. "I promise you'll be the first to know."

* * *

The following day, I visited Sodapop again. Although, it wasn't actually intentional this time. I convinced my dad, yet again, to let me borrow his car so I could go over to Cynthia's, as she had invited me over to watch a movie. I guessed she was still feeling a little guilty about what she'd said. On the way to her house, I decided to stop for the gas I'd promised my dad I would get the last time I borrowed his car, but never did. Immediately upon pulling into the DX and alongside one of the pumps, I realised Sodapop was stood beside it.

Okay, this was getting a little ridiculous. He'd think I had nothing better to do than visit him at work.

He gave a low whistle, leaning one arm on the door as he looked through the open window. "Nice car, Roxanne," he complimented.

"It's my dad's," I told him.

"Didn't expect to see ya back here so soon," he remarked, grinning. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

"Fill up the car, wise-guy," I retorted.

Sodapop laughed and I had to remind myself not to get caught up. Honestly, it was sometimes hard for me to make conversation with him when he was taking my breath away. "You're happier than the last time I saw ya," he pointed out. "I'm guessin' the rumours have stopped?"

"Pretty much," I replied. He smiled, patting the windowsill with his hand before standing up straight, proceeding to fill up my dad's car. "I wanted to thank you, by the way," I said after he returned to the window and I'd paid him. "For the other day."

"Ain't a problem," he said, smiling and shrugging.

"And I'll return your shirt soon I just—"

"Naw, ya don't have to," he argued. "I meant it when I said ya can keep it. I won't miss it."

I could tell there was no point arguing back, so I smiled, hoping it looked as grateful as I felt. Not just about the shirt, but about how much he'd helped me recently. "Thanks, Sodapop."

He nodded. "You dig okay, Roxanne." Then he took a step back and I pulled out of the DX, looking in my rear-view mirror just once as I drove away.

* * *

 **I go back to university on Sunday so it might be a while before the next chapter is up, but I'll try and make sure it isn't too long a wait :-)**


	8. Reckless

**Hey! Wow, so this hasn't been updated in months and I'm so sorry about that! I've been having a pretty hectic year at university but I had a little free time recently and I got inspired.**

 **Anyway, thanks to the people to continued to review/favourite/follow despite it being so long since I updated. And thanks to people who like this story who have waited forever for the next chapter. It's a long one, too!**

 **Honestly I'm a little nervous because it's been so long but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!**

* * *

I'd like to say things pretty much went back to normal after that – which they did, for a short while, at least. Though it was probably at this point when things became anything other than normal, when things truly began to change.

Yes, the rumours stopped and people stopped giving me funny looks, but there was still this little voice in the back of my mind, constantly reminding me that I'd always be seen in a different light from now on, even if people didn't explicitly let it show. Daniel Miller was this all-American golden boy, he played football and was friends with the right people. I was the new girl who had rocked up from Boston and defended greasers in the school halls. But I decided that this wasn't going to bother me anymore. I had the upper hand; I knew the truth and I wasn't just friends with the "right people", they were good friends.

Only when I saw my friends in the pretty cheerleader uniforms did I feel a twinge of sadness in my chest. I told myself that one day I would be in that uniform again, cheering alongside my friends. One day Daniel Miller was not going to control that aspect of my life.

* * *

For possibly the first time ever, I was zoning out in English class. Usually it was one of the only classes than managed to maintain my full attention for the duration, but today I found myself staring into space and absent-mindedly tapping my pencil against the desk. Eventually, Ponyboy leant over to snatch the pencil from my grasp. Then I snapped to attention, realising that the rest of the class was in discussion with the people sitting next to them, and I had no idea what about.

"You alright?" Ponyboy asked, giving me a slightly concerned look as he placed my pencil down on the desk. It struck me then that he had never seen me quite so distant, with him I'd always been rather cheery. Perhaps he hadn't considered that someone like me could have problems, too.

"Fine," I answered quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, for Ponyboy raised an eyebrow. "What are we talking about?" I then asked in an attempt to change the subject.

He ignored the question, seeming to understand what I was doing. He leant towards me, lowering his voice so nobody else would hear. "Are ya still upset about what happened at that party?"

Outwardly, I furrowed my eyebrows, surprised. Inwardly, I felt a dead weight in my chest. He must have heard the rumours. I hated the thought of Ponyboy hearing such awful things about me – and it wasn't just me, his brother was involved as well.

"You heard about that?" I asked him quietly.

"Yeah, but I heard it from Sodapop," he admitted. For some reason, that possibility hadn't crossed my mind. I guess it was hard to picture Sodapop discussing my unfortunate incident with his younger brother. Ponyboy gave me a small smile. "I ain't listened to any of them rumours." I returned the smile, unbelievably relieved that at least Ponyboy Curtis didn't see me in a different light.

By the time lunch rolled around, the dead weight in my chest had disappeared and I felt much lighter. It seemed like things were starting to look up. I practically skipped into the cafeteria and hopped into a seat at our usual table, where Peggy greeted me with a perplexed look.

"Why're you so smiley?" She questioned.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I guess things don't seem so bad anymore." I could tell by the slight upwards twitch of her mouth that she understood.

"Hey, y'all," Marcia greeted as she sat opposite me, the last to arrive at our table. "I heard there's a river-bottom party this Saturday. Y'all up for it?"

And just like that, the lightness I'd been feeling completely vanished. I was not feeling another party so soon after the mess of the last one. Nancy appeared to sense this, discreetly shooting me a worried look, to which I responded with a reassuring smile. Daniel Miller was the main worry, of course, but even if he _was_ there, there was no way my friends would let him anywhere near me,

"I'm down," Cherry answered right away.

"Won't there be greasers there?" Cynthia asked. "That's more their scene."

Cherry shrugged and Peggy said, "So, what? They always show up at parties that _ain't_ their scene."

"Sure, okay. Could be fun," Cynthia replied, shrugging as well. "Rox? Nance?" She turned to us, glancing between us, though her eyes rested on me for a fraction of a second longer.

In that moment, a strange calm swept over me. I decided that I would not let Daniel Miller dictate _this_ part of my life. So I wasn't ready to re-join the cheerleading squad yet, but I wasn't going to let him stop me from going to parties and having fun with my friends.

"You know what?" I said, determined. "Yeah. I'll go."

"Me, too," Nancy piped up, sending me a quick wink. I caught Cherry's gaze and she held it for a long moment, giving me what seemed to be a proud smile.

* * *

Once again, all week I thought about what to wear to this damn party. It was harder this time because it was an entirely different scene; a river-bottom party, where it sounded like more greasers were likely to turn up. Sure, there had been a few at Jennifer Moore's party, but that hadn't exactly been their "territory".

This time I only enlisted Nancy's help, though. The night before the party she was already at my house so we could do homework together. I realised at a later date that this was something Nancy and I did a lot together – the aim was to study or complete homework, however it was also a chance to gossip, to speak to one another without the others present. Of course, I could gossip and chat to the other girls, but I was definitely closest to Nancy out of all of them. She and Cherry were probably the most understanding.

Anyway, I was flicking through my closet while Nancy lay on her back on my bed amongst the abandoned homework. "Do you know what you're wearing yet?" I asked her over my shoulder.

"Probably a dress," she replied dismissively. She rolled onto her stomach to grin at me. "You put a lot of thought into this, don'tcha?"

"Well, I'm still technically the "new girl"," I told her, using my fingers to air-quote. "I need to make a good impression still."

"Rox, I don't mean to sound cliché, but at this point ya have a pretty good reputation. Ya don't need to dress to impress other people no more," Nancy argued.

I snorted. "Yeah. I have the reputation of the girl who defends greasers in the school hall and goes home from parties with them."

"Defendin' that kid ain't a bad thing. And 'sides, you didn't even go home with Sodapop. I thought you were over that?"

"I am. I'm just being stupid," I answered, shaking my head and facing my closet again. "What about pants?"

"Your folks'll let you go out in pants?" Nancy asked, sounding both impressed and surprised.

"Dunno." I grinned over my shoulder at her. "Worth a shot, though."

The following evening, Nancy once again came over to my house, a dress folded delicately over her arm. We figured it would be easier for Cherry to pick us up from one house, seeing as we lived so close anyway, thus deciding to both get ready at my house. I didn't offer to drive this time, though I doubted that my friends would even want me to after I left them in the lurch last time.

"Hello, Nancy," my mom greeted as soon as Nancy stepped into the house. My mom was showcasing her signature smile, the one that seemed to light up any room and make my chest warm when I was sad. Just like with her humming, this smile had disappeared for a short time. Seeing it again now almost made tears spring to my eyes.

"Hi, Mrs. Kennedy," Nancy responded, returning a smile that almost rivalled my mom's.

"I hear you girls are going to another party tonight. I hope it's better than the last one, Roxy said it wasn't much fun," my mom said. Nancy momentarily caught my eye and I quickly shook my head, indicating that I hadn't told her what had happened.

"I'm sure this one'll be better," Nancy replied. "I'm determined to take Rox to a good party."

After this, Nancy and I headed up to my room, where we danced around to records from my collection and got ready for the party. Nancy changed into the dress she'd brought with her, a red sundress that was both simple and stunning, adorning her hair with a ribbon of the same colour. Seeing her dressed like this proved to make me feel very self-conscious, as I stood in front of my mirror in black pedal-pushers and a white blouse.

"Wow," Nancy said when she saw my complete outfit. "You look great, Rox! My parents'd never let me dress like that."

"I doubt _my_ dad _will_ ," I said with a nervous laugh. "I'm gonna try and avoid him on the way out." The next time I looked at myself in the mirror, I found myself liking how different I looked.

When we heard Cherry honk the horn outside, we both bolted downstairs, giggling with giddiness. I managed to avoid bumping into either of my parents, yelling a "bye!" into the house before shutting the door.

"Rox!" Cherry cried, giving a fake gasp when she saw my clothes.

Peggy gave a low whistle while Cynthia said, "Why, look atcha!"

"Do I look okay?" I asked them as I climbed into the car, suddenly self-conscious again.

"Better than okay!" Marcia chirped. "My dad would _kill_ me if he saw me wearin' that."

"So would mine," I said with a laugh. "That's why I didn't let him see me."

It looked like one hell of a party as soon as we pulled up. Already I preferred the location, it looked like it was easier to avoid people. There were already so many people there standing in groups, talking and laughing and drinking. And there were definitely greasers there, definitely not mingling with the socs. I was somewhat surprised by the excited butterflies in my stomach as I climbed out of Cherry's car, but I wasn't about to question it.

Unlike the last party, tonight I wanted to drink. Not just that, I wanted to get drunk. I'd never drank before, and I'd sworn to never even touch it after seeing what it could do. Tonight I felt different, brand new almost. Perhaps it was the fact I wasn't letting someone like Daniel Miller stop me from going to some party. Perhaps it was because I was at a party with a group of friends I never expected to make, in a town I never expected to like. Because I did – I did like Tulsa. Obviously I still missed Boston, I always would, yet Tulsa was growing on me. Perhaps it was this realisation that allowed me to let go of that part of myself.

I ended up being that person who continuously offered to get everyone fresh drinks, even if they hadn't finished their current one. I knew I must have been drunk when everything seemed to become bright and hazy, when the ground seemed to bend when I tried walking on it. I knew without a doubt that I was drunk when, on the way back from collecting a few more drinks, I bumped (literally) into a couple of greasers.

"Hey, watch it," one of them snarled. I whirled around to apologise – probably a little too fast as I nearly fell over in the process – to come face-to-face with Steve Randle and Dallas Winston. Of course, I didn't know that his name was Dallas Winston back then, he was just the greaser who had yelled at me in a store when I saw him stealing a pack of cigarettes.

"Man, do I gotta keep seein' this chick everywhere?" I heard Steve mutter.

"Believe me, the feeling's mutual," I retorted.

"This broad's got a mouth on her, huh?" Dallas commented, eyeing me up and down distastefully. I glared right back at him, fuelled by alcohol.

Steve snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

I rolled my eyes. "If you're finished, "this broad" will be leaving." With that, I spun on my heel, going back to where my group of friends were standing.

"Were you just talkin' to Dallas Winston?" Cherry asked as I handed her a drink. And that was when I learnt his name.

"I mean, we exchanged words but it wasn't really a conversation," I told her.

"Man, Dallas Winston scares me," Nancy admitted, also taking a drink from my hands.

"Yeah, he's intimidating," I agreed.

"And he's been in jail," Marcia added. That didn't surprise me, but I didn't say that out loud.

I continued to drink until I was merrily inebriated, more so than any of my friends, who seemed to enjoy witnessing me getting to this stage. At a later point in the night, we were joined by Bob, Randy and a couple of other girls who I knew by name but had only spoken to briefly; Karen Sanders was the head cheerleader, therefore pretty close with my cheerleader friends, and her best friend Jane Green. They were both pretty in a typical way, though they both really enjoyed talking about cheerleading and the boys who played football.

I stuck around for some of the conversation, mainly to be polite. Eventually I grew bored, discovering that alcohol gave me a lower attention span and a need to wander. "I'm gonna go for a walk," I told Cynthia, who was standing closest to me.

"Want me to come with?" She asked, taking note of the way I was swaying slightly.

"No, it's okay. I won't be long." I smiled and quietly slipped away from the group.

It was interesting to listen to the random conversations of the people I passed as I walked, trying hard not to stumble into anyone. Or the river. I overheard a drunken argument between a soc couple about how he cared about playing football more than he cared about her. I overheard a group of greaser boys laughing loudly at a vulgar joke. Then there was a small group of girls, a couple of which also wearing pedal-pushers, whispering and giggling drunkenly about a boy they found cute, though I didn't catch a name.

I was so immersed in these conversations, and being drunk didn't help, that soon I _did_ stumble directly into someone. Said someone grabbed my shoulders to steady me, and I looked up into the face of Sodapop Curtis. Of course. Who else? I absently noted that even through hazy vision he was still gorgeous.

"Hey, Roxanne," he greeted cheerily, grinning at me as he released my shoulders. "Almost didn't recognise ya in them clothes."

I grinned back, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks. "Fancy bumping into you here."

He raised an eyebrow at my slurred speech, his grin becoming a smirk. "Are ya drunk?" He asked, seeming amused.

"A little," I answered.

He gave a small laugh, and it was even harder when I was drunk to not be captivated by that damn smile. "Well, at least you're happy at _this_ party," he said. I nodded enthusiastically, hoping to convey that I really was. He glanced around behind me. "But you ain't here alone, are ya?"

"No, my friends are over there, somewhere." I gestured vaguely behind me, before spinning around to see if I could spot them. I couldn't. Either I was too drunk to see properly, or I'd walked further than I thought.

"How 'bout we go find 'em, huh? Don't wantcha wanderin' 'round here on your own." Sodapop proffered his arm and I linked my own through it.

"Sodapop Curtis coming to my rescue again," I said as we began walking the way I'd come from. "What a true gentleman."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "You're funny when you're drunk, Roxanne."

"So I'm not when I'm sober?" I asked, pretending to be offended.

"Yeah, actually. But, I dunno, ya just seem looser when you're drunk. Like ya don't care." I glanced at him thoughtfully, unable to find a response to that.

We walked for what felt like forever, which that was probably due to the alcohol in my system. The party was beginning to die down and pretty soon I was beginning to sober up a little. I didn't see any of my friends anywhere, but I did see Karen Sanders and Jane Green. "Hey, Karen," I began as I approached her. "Where did everyone go?"

I didn't fail to see the surprise that crossed her face. "Oh. Roxanne, you've been gone a while. They thought you left." I heaved a heavy sigh. Not at my friends, at myself. I _had_ wandered off. Again. It was an honest mistake on their part.

"Oh. Okay," I said. "You think you could give me a ride? Cherry was supposed to take me home."

"Sorry, Roxanne. There's no room," Karen answered, sounding sincerely apologetic.

"Ask 'round, I'm sure someone can help," Jane chipped in. Then she shot a strange look at something over my shoulder, and when I glanced back I realised it was at Sodapop. I was surprised for a moment, I hadn't expected him to stick around.

I went back to him, feeling completely helpless. "My friends thought I left. They went home," I explained, fiddling with my hair anxiously. "Now I'm stuck here."

He regarded me for a long moment, biting his lip as he thought. Then he let loose a deep sigh before speaking, "Look, I know this ain't the "normal" thing to do or whatever… But I like ya, Roxanne. I can't leave ya out here alone."

"What are you saying?" I questioned, studying him curiously.

"If ya want… ya can come stay at my house. It's nothin' fancy but it ain't far, and I'd feel a whole lot better knowin' you were safe."

I thought about this for what seemed like a good while, frowning at the fact he had to mention that it wasn't a fancy house, surprised that he'd even offered in the first place. This was an obvious logical solution to my problem, but was it "allowed"? What would my friends think? What would _his_ friends think? Would I have the chance to let my parents know that I was staying over somewhere? They'd be worried sick if I didn't. Plus, if people saw us leaving _another_ party together, those damn rumours would reignite, and this time they'd be wilder.

"I dunno," I finally said. "Your friends will never let me live it down. _My_ friends will never let me live it down."

"I get it, your reputation's important to ya," Sodapop replied. It didn't sound mean, he was just stating a fact. I opened my mouth to argue, before realising he was right. My reputation was the only thing that had stopped me from saying yes right away, the only thing causing me to overthink everything. He continued, "But maybe for one night ya can forget I'm a greaser, and just think of me as a friend that wants to help."

I couldn't help but smile at this. He considered us friends. I was going to do exactly as he said. For one night, at least, I was going to forget about socs and greasers. Funny, I went into this night not wanting Daniel Miller control my life, and I was about to leave it not letting the social hierarchy control it.

"Okay," I said. "You're right." He smiled, looking a little relieved. "You're useful to have around in a sticky situation, aren't you?"

"That's two ya owe me, now," he joked. "Hey, I bet Pony'll be glad to see ya."

I rolled my eyes, grinning. "Please don't try and set me up with your little brother."

I was certain that nobody saw us leave together, but the one person who did was probably the worst possible person it could have been.

* * *

Looking back, I realise this was a pivotal night. I'd just jumped out of one sticky situation and straight into another. I just wasn't longed for a normal life in this town. From here on out I absolutely would be seen in a different light, by both greasers and socs. But from here on out, I wouldn't care as much.

* * *

 **Honestly, I originally had such a different idea of the way I wanted this chapter to go, but I really like how it turned out. Hopefully you did, too!**


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